Does this darkness have a name?
by Weskette
Summary: There's nothing left in Andrea's mind. She's lost her memories and her veiws on life. Daryl feels responsible.
1. Gone

**Does this darkness have a name?**

_"Are there memories left that are safe from the clutches of phony anniversaries?"_ - Pope Paul VI

Daryl hoisted his latest kill onto his shoulders. It was a large buck and probably weighed about a hundred and sixty pounds. The antlers were large, at least twenty points, but those didn't matter anymore; just the meat did. All in all, it could have been Bambi's dad.

Daryl was less than a quarter mile from the camp that the group had set up. It was in a large, beat-up house, deep in the heart of Alabama. The original plan had been to head as far west as possible and find a boat. Then they could anchor off shore and only go to the main land when they were low on something. But they had been at the house for a week and a half so far and didn't seem like they would move.  
>'They' consisted of Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog, Carl, Lori, Dale, Rick, Carol, Andrea, and the newest member, Suzie Grimes, Lori's newborn. Shane had left the group when Hershal's farmhouse had been evacuated of anyone but his family. From what they knew, he had headed to Fort Benning.<p>

The camp came into view through the trees, the RV, the old house, and Daryl's Truck and the Grimes' family car. He could see Dale perched on top of the RV with his rifle in hand. He got inside camp and dumped the deer next to Rick.

"You wanna help skin this thing?" Daryl asked the ex-cop.

Rick whistled admiringly. "Sure. You must've been tracking this thing for miles."

"Nah. Found it 'bout a half mile out, scared it back this way. Got it downed in two shots," the hick explained.

Rick started to reply, only to be interrupted by a very distraught Maggie running into camp, shouting to them. Rick stood, directing his attention to the woman. Glenn came out of the house at the sound of the commotion. "What is it? Where's Andrea?"

Maggie practically collapsed into Glenn's arms. "He took her...!" She replied shakily, barely able to form the sentence. The others began to surround them, Lori coming out of the house holding her daughter in her arms followed by Carol and T-Dog. Daryl stood with a scowl on his face.

"Maggie, calm down. Tell us what happened," Glenn spoke, holding the woman gently as she shook.

"Andrea and I had found an old apple tree... W, we were p, picking apples and... A guy came up... He, he tased me!" She pulled the sleeve of her shirt up to show two circular burns.

"Well, where the hell is Andrea?" Daryl demanded, surprisingly calm. Andrea was his closest friend out of them all. Their friendship had really been an accident. After Sophia's second death, she had helped him get his mind off it, asking him to teach her to track and hunt and just about anything else. She definately wasn't the annoying lawyer he had used to think she was. And he wasn't happy with the fact she was missing.

"The g, guy... He took her..." Maggie buried her face against Glenn's neck, done speaking. Everyone else stood shocked into silence by her story. Taken by an unknown man?

Daryl swore aloud. "What the hell? We gotta get the fuck out there, see where they went! Track down the bastard and kill him!"

Silence. Until Lori spoke, that is. "He's right. Maggie, sweetie, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to go back there. We need Daryl to help track her down."

Maggie nodded. "I will." She stood, still trembling with a combination of fear and the shock from the taser.

"C'mon. T-Dog, China. Let's go," Daryl grumbled, following Maggie as she led the way into the field behind the house.

Ten minutes later, on the edge of the woods, Maggie pointed at a tree. "That's... That's the tree. It was right here."

Daryl knelt by the base of the apple tree. After a moment of study, he stood again. "You fell there?" he asked, pointing at a spot on the ground. She nodded. He glanced around for a moment. "China, bring the girl back ta' camp. T-Dog, your coming with me."

"Got it," the African-american spoke.

"I'll tell them where you are," Glenn reassured. "Be careful."

Daryl nodded and led T-Dog in the opposite direction of camp. He followed the obvious marks in the dirt. They led into the woods, following no particular path from which Daryl could tell. Broken foliage was abundant and practically screamed to the hunter which way he should go. T-Dog followed behind, barely comprehending the marks the Daryl pointed out, but trusting the man before him.

"What messed up sonovabitch does this kinda thing?" T-Dog wondered aloud.

Daryl shrugged. "An idiot, that's for sure. Andrea is a crazy bitch when she wants to be, and not even I'd wanna be on that side a' her."

"Pssh. I'm sure there's another side you'd rather be on," T-Dog replied half suggestively.

"What the hell is that supposed ta' mean?"

"Nothing. You two just spend alotta time together. With how the world is, it's gotta mean somethin' in the end."

"It don't mean nothin'. She an' I are friends, that's all." The hunter stopped, looking at a large piece of bark that had been torn off a tree's trunk. "She put up one helluva fight up until here."

"No one would blame ya, ya know. It's not like there are many options these days in women."

Daryl didn't reply, only looked down at the scuffs in the dirt as though they were the embodiment of sin. "Shit. C'mon, we're catching up." He started a slow jog, making sure that he could clearly see the path he was following.

A small warehouse came into view, a long stretch of empty street with no houses or other buildings. Daryl held his crossbow up and T-Dog readied his small hatchet as the proceeded foreward. "They should be in here..." Daryl mumbled, lightly pressing the door open. The warehouse was completely empty except for a small area that seemed to be lived in (complete with sleeping bag and fire pit), and a man with shaggy brown hair, holding a knife to Andrea's throat.

He was murmuring into her ear, and her eyes were wide in fear as she looked to see Daryl and T-Dog in the doorway.

"H... Help...!" She managed to say. Blood was pouring from her right arm, causing the fabric of her shirt to cling to the wound, dripping down to the binds on her hands.

The man realized she wasn't speaking to him and looked up, eyes falling on the two men at the door.

"Let 'er go," Daryl commanded, his voice hard and cold.

The man's eyes went wide, crazed and desperate. "N, no! I won't let her leave again!" He hugged Andrea closer to himself, his knife drawing a pinprick of blood from her throat. "She was already gone once... But I found her! My Debbie..." Daryl raised the crossbow, waiting for a clear shot at the man. "My Debbie... She fell down the stairs and forgot about me! She bit me and ran away! But... But I have her again! She'll remember me soon..." That's when Daryl noticed the concrete steps behind the man, leading down into a deeper part of the warehouse. He also saw the wound on the man's arm. A walker had gotten him, and recently too. "Debbie bit me... But I forgive her! My arm doesn't hurt anymore! She and I can be together now!" The man tensed suddenly and pushed Andrea towards the stairs. She stumbled, unable to stable herself. She couldn't bring her hands up to catch herself and she fell down the hard, concrete stairs.

"Fuck!" Daryl spat, aiming his crossbow at the man who had sent her down them. A moment later there was a crossbow in the psycho's neck and Daryl was running down the stairs, followed by T-Dog.  
>A body lay at the bottom of the concrete killers. "Andrea!"<p>

The ties on her hands had seemed to snap on her way down, letting her arms lie outward. Daryl kneeled down next to her, slipping an arm under her torso. There was a large bump on her head, close to the temple.

"Is she okay?" T-Dog asked.

"I dunno," the woodsman replied, placing a finger under her chin. He found a pulse beating unnaturally fast, but it was there. "She's alive. T-Dog breathed a sigh of relief. Daryl shook the woman's shoulder gently, but she didn't stir. He took out a rag from his back pocket and wrapped it around the bloody wound on her arm. "We gotta get her back to camp. I can carry her, but you gotta watch for walkers." T-Dog nodded. Daryl slung his crossbow onto his back and carefully lifted Andrea. She was limp in his arms as he carried her up the stairs. Passing by the dead man on the ground, he told T-Dog to get his bolt.

The three headed back to camp, Andrea not so much as twitching during the journey.

Choas seemed to explode at camp on their arrival. Maggie broke down into sobs as Daryl carried the limp Andrea in, believing her dead. Lori handed off her daughter to Carol and tried to help, clearing a path to an empty bed where the blond could sleep until she woke again. Rick and Dale, of course, approached Daryl as soon as his arms were empty.

"What happened out there?" Dale asked.

Daryl collapsed into an armchair in the corner of the room as he replied.

"Me and T-Dog followed the guy that took her to a warehouse 'bout a half a mile from here. The guy had gone pycho. Kept calling Andrea Debbie and claimed that she had been lost, is all, and forgot who he was."

"But how'd she end up like this?" Rick questioned, confused by what he was hearing.

"The bastard pushed her down some concrete stairs. Tryin' to get her to remember him, or somethin'." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Alabama heat was just like Georgia's. Overwhelming.

Both men nodded. "You should get some rest. You've had a long day," Rick commented.

Daryl shook his head. "Nah... Still half the day left. I'm gonna go huntin'." He stood and walked to the door. Pausing, he looked back at them. "Could ya... Could ya tell me when she wakes up?"

"Of course."

Daryl walked out without another word.

* * *

><p>Early the next day, Carol found herself seated in the room that harbored Andrea on the bed. Nobody else had really been in there, save for Daryl, who only glancing in the door to see if she was awake. Andrea's silence scared Carol. The blonde had been there for her after Sophia's death and had helped get her mind off things.<p>

Maggie entered through the door, seeming to have just woken up.

"Hi, Carol..." the girl greeted. She took a seat on the couch, bringing her knees up to hug them. "Has she changed at all?"

Carol shook her head. "Afraid not."

Maggie was silent for a moment before mumbling, "This is my fault."

Carol was taken aback. "Don't let yourself belive that. This was just an accident," the older woman reassured.

The brunette seemed to have refused the statement. "No. It was my idea to look through the fields. I'm the one that asked her to go with me."

"Maggie, you aren't at fault here. It's the man that did this who is." Carol reached over and patted the girl's shoulder, doing her best to comfort.

There was movement from the bed. Andrea was slowly stirring, slowly waking up. Her eyes opened and blinked slowly. Carol turned to Maggie and spoke quickly. "Maggie, could you go get Daryl? He wanted to know when she was up."

The brunette nodded and left the room. Carol moved closer to the bed, taking Andrea's hand in her own two. "Andrea, sweetie, how do you feel?"

Andrea's blue-green eyes were wide as she looked at the older woman at her side. She spoke. "Who's Andrea?"

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not quite sure how I thought of this, but I'm semi-happy with it's result. I realize that the last line is quite a cliche. But, I had nothing else to get the point across as well. I've already started chapter two. Yes, this will be a story based on Daryl and Andrea. I'll also be including a quote about memories at the top of every chapter. If anybody would like to suggest any quotes, I will consider them.<strong>

**This, of course, will be continued.**


	2. On Waking

**This, according to the reviews I've gotten, is original. Not to sound Stephanie Myer-ish, but I had a dream that led me to this. I have a lot of Walking Dead dreams. I'm usually Andrea in my dreams, but they turn into nightmares. Though, I have had a nightmare where I was myself and Carol had adopted me. She and I were visiting Andrea and Daryl at their house when there was a flood. I hate water. It was a nightmare.**

**PlaneJane21- Thank you for the quotes! You gave me a few I haven't found before, so it's helpful.**

**SpringsteensGirl- Thanks for reviewing! Your stories are my favorites, and it means a lot to hear from you!**

**Does this darkness have a name?**

_"The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten."_ - Cesare Pavese

Daryl paced the room like a wild animal. Andrea sat on the bed, holding her head in her hands. Carol was seated in the same spot as she had been, nervously fidgeting and wringing her hands.

"So... My name is Andrea... I've got that. But... But what's going on?" Andrea spoke, frowning and uneasy in this situation.

"You got hurt. Hit yer head when you were pushed down some stairs..." Daryl explained, never ceasing movement. "Me and T-Dog brought you back here."

She was thoroughly confused by the happenings around her. She harbored no information about the two in the room with her besides their names, and she had only just learned them.

"Do you remember anything?" Carol asked, eyes watery.

"... No... Nothing."

Daryl paused. "Do ya remember Amy?"

"Who?"

That's when Daryl knew she was gone. Sure, she was still breathing, still talking, still looking at him with those big blue-green eyes of hers, but she was gone. Not a single memory of her life had made it through the fall.

"Sonovabitch..."

Carol seemed to be crying now, and Andrea bit her lip. "Sh... Should I know who Amy is?"

Daryl swore again, pacing up and down. "She's the only goddamned person you woulda gone ta' hell and back for." He turned to Carol. "I'm gonna go get Dale and Rick. They need ta' know." She nodded and he left.

Carol looked over at Andrea. "Nothing at all?"

The blonde shook her head no. "Only waking up here... Who, uh, who pushed me down stairs?"

Carol gave a small shrug. "We never got his name. You and Maggie had gone out to an apple tree that she had found. She came back and told us that she had been tazed, and the man had taken you... She's been shaken up ever since. When Daryl came back, carrying you, she thought you were dead. Without Daryl and T-Dog, you might be."

"But how did I end up with... With this?" She placed two fingers cautiously on the bump on her head.

"Daryl said that the man was crazed and thought you were someone else. He'd been bit by a walker, they said. He wanted you to remember him, so he pushed you down some stairs."

"Why does that word, walker, scare me?" Andrea asked, a chill going down her back, hand twitching as though to grab something off her belt.

"It's not so much the word as it is the thing its self. Walkers are dead people who rose up again. Best word to describe them would probably be zombie. But we got all sorts of names for them; geeks, walkers, and a few call them words I'd rather not say. There aren't many survivors like the group we've got here." Carol gave her a small smile before saying, "Don't you worry about walkers right now. The men will make sure everybody here stays safe."

Andrea dragged a hand down her face, trying to understand the situation. An apocolyptic world where the dead walked and the insane ran rampant. And an Amy. Who was this person that seemed to bring up some kind of emotion in her that she didn't understand? A friend? An enemy? She had no idea.

Her thoughts were interrupted by two men she didn't recognize entering the room, as well as Daryl's return. One was elderly; gray hair, small stature, and a fishing hat on his head. The other was considerably younger; strong build, darker hair, and a definite 'cop' vibe. She had no idea how she knew what a 'cop' vibe was, but she knew he had one.

"Andrea, are you okay?" The older one asked, frowning. He seemed worried from the way he was fidgeting, shifting weight from foot to foot.

"I told you, old man. She probably doesn't know who you are. She didn't even remember Amy," Daryl explained, half angry, half frustrated.

The older man gasped. "Andrea, I'm Dale," he said, hoping she might remember.

She shook her head. "I... I'm sorry. I don't remember."

"If you don't remember anything, then I should probably re-introduce myself. I'm Rick," the third man said. He seemed to contemplate holding his hand out to her to shake, but decided against it.

She nodded to him, biting her lip with uncertainty. There was silence for a moment until Dale asked, "What should we do?"

Rick thought a moment, and then addressed Andrea. "We should probably get you re-acquainted with everyone. Make sure you learn everyone's names again."

"I can help 'er with that," Daryl offered gruffly. "The deer I bagged yesterday should suffice 'til I go huntin' again."

Rick nodded and Dale frowned. "Okay. Make sure she knows everything she needs to."

Daryl offered a hand to help the blonde up. She accepted it thankfully and pulled herself onto her feet. The five in the room dispersed, Daryl leading Andrea down a hallway to the kitchen. Maggie was helping Lori pull together a breakfast while the infant Suzie slept in a stolen carseat resting on a chair.

"Andrea! Maggie told me you had woken up, I just haven't gotten time to visit yet," Lori spoke, as if the two were old friends.

Daryl interupted before the mother could continue. "This is Lori, and this is Maggie," he informed Andrea.

Lori looked at him, confused. "What are you-"

"I lost my memory," Andrea cut in. "Daryl's helping me learn names again..." She trailed off, feeling awkward.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Lori frowned, but turned into a smile. "Well, he's right. I'm Lori, Rick's wife. My son Carl is with Glenn. And this is my baby, Suzie. You may not remember it, but you helped deliver her." Andrea raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"C'mon, we still got a few more people for you to meet again," Daryl said, laying a hand on Andera's shoulder. She nodded and followed him out the door.

"What do I usually do around here?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You help with laundry and cooking, most the time. But you do go huntin' with me every few days. Yer also pretty kickass with a gun." She listened intently, though nothing brought back any memories. "There ain't much else anyone can do other than that."

He quickly introduced her to Glenn and T-Dog and then showed her where her room was.

"This is all yer stuff," he explained, nodding his head towards the small bag on the table and various other small things in the room. He could feel some sort of frustration building in him everytime she looked at him, confusion and hopelessness in her eyes. But she looked up at him again, each of those emotions present, but also a sort of trusting look, one he was rarely regarded with. He felt anger rise within, though he wasn't sure why. He managed to control it and say, "You should go see Lori or Dale if you wanna start helping out again. I gotta... Go huntin'."

He practically fled the room, leaving Andrea by her lonesome. She sat at the edge of the bed, almost afraid of the things around her. No one here seemed familiar. She wouldn't have been able to pick them out of a crowd. But then again, she wouldn't have been able to pick herself out of a crowd. She didn't even know her own last name.

She stood again, approaching the vanity on the dresser. Blonde hair, eyes that couldn't decide between blue and green, and a very distinct frown. What she saw was a familiar stranger. She felt as though she had see the face before but couldn't remember where. It was stupid, she knew. It was her face now, and had been hers before. But what threw her off was she couldn't remember it. She couldn't remember ever looking in a mirror to check her makeup, or taking hours to get ready before school. Nothing.

* * *

><p>Daryl had marched out of the house, muttering to himself. The anger was building, and he needed to vent. He walked past the stationary RV, into the field, and began to jog. He headed towards the far woods, opposite of where Andrea had been taken. Once far enough, he swore as loud as he could. It was his fault that Andrea had lost her past. Should've taken the shot sooner, taken the fucking lunatic down before the man had a chance to hurt Andrea any further. His fucking fault. The fact that she could look at him now and trust every word out of his mouth scared him. She didn't know what had gone on moments before she fell. She would blame him too... Right? The power, the fucking scary ass power of being able to say anything to her and still have her believe. He'd never been trusted like that before. He hadn't even been trusted to walk in and out of another person's house without stealing something. He swore again, punching a tree in anger. He didn't deserve trust. Because it was his fault that she was memory-less.<p>

Kind of like Sophia.

His fault. His fucking fault. Sophia, that poor little girl, dead. Bitten. He'd seen the teeth marks on her throat when he was burying her. If he'd gotten his fucking ass out there faster, he might've been able to save her. To save Carol from heart break as well.

Another thing he _hadn't_ been able to do.

_"You're a fucking useless piece a' shit!"_ His brother's voice rang in his head. _"What, you think you're worth somethin'? You're an ass wipe. Nothin' but somethin' for everybody else t' hate!"_

Daryl swore again, trying to get that voices out of his head. He had no family anymore. He missed his brother less and less with every day that passed. The bastard's motorcycle only came with because it was a smaller, faster vehicle than the truck.

His back hit a tree and he slid down into a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, he found the anger dissapate as his mind was taken over by a short, nearly forgotten memory. It wasn't much, and no memory of any words spoken. More of a feeling. It was his mother's arms wrapping around him, her smell permeating through the air.

It was calming, thinking of her. The only family member he could honestly say he loved.

He exhaled and stood. He felt better now, but he might as well get a few squirrels while he was out.

* * *

><p>Andrea stood besides Lori, doing her best to copy the movement the woman made. They were attempting to make bread with the wild grain that had been found in generous supply a few days before, back when Andrea was Andrea, not a hallow shell of a person. The way to knead the bread was tiring. The repetative motion caused both women to get aches in their wrists, not to mention Andrea's hurt arm stung with every movement.<p>

"We had originally planned to head out west and find some safety in the mountains or possibly along the coast," Lori explained. "But we ended up here. It's west, but not exactly as far as we expected." Andrea nodded, silently contemplating all she had been told. The past few hours had been thouroughly confusing, and she had yet to remember anything. Patience, she told herself. She'd get something eventually.

"Could you tell me something?" she asked the older woman.

"Of course. What is it?"

"I was wondering if you knew where I was from."

"Oh, that's all. I think you mentioned that you were from a city near Miami."

Andrea was silent, working the dough into readiness. Florida. Near Miami. Nothing. Not a single reminder came from those words. She silently swore.

Carol entered the room carrying the youngest of the group, seeing the two women working. "Lori, I was looking for you. It would seem Suzie is up from her nap and is a bit hungry."

Lori stopped working the dough and wiped her hands on a washcloth. "Thank you, Carol. Would you mind taking over here?"

Carol handed off the child. "Not a problem. You go feed your baby."

Lori thanked the woman and left with Suzie. Carol took the place besides Andrea and began to knead the dough. "You feelin' better?" Carol asked, voice quiet.

Andrea nodded. "Yeah. My... My headache is gone."

"Good..."

The blonde braced herself, trying to get the nerve to ask Carol a question she hadn't felt she could ask Lori. "Carol?"

"Hm?"

"Who... Who is Amy?"

Carol's hands froze up on her dough, coming to a sudden stop. A frown twitched over her face. "I, uh... I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask that question... It might even be better if you remember on your own..." The older woman trailed off, avoiding Andrea's eyes. There was a thick, tension filled silence, as Carol stared at her hands. Andrea felt her shoulders slouch forward, just a little bit farther into sadness. She had nothing of her memory, and yet was denied knowledge of this one person who seemed to hold much of her life.

Carol broke the tension. "I think we can go ahead and cook these now." She took the loaves and left to cook them, leaving Andrea alone with her questions.

* * *

><p>When Daryl finally came back, he had five squirrels strung up over his shoulder. It was late, the sun already gone from the sky. He could see a fire burning, logs set up around it to sit on. Only one person remained there, from what he could see. As he drew closer, he realized it was Andrea.<p>

He set the squirrels down where no animals would get at them before taking a seat across the fire. Both adults were silent, not sure how to address each other. Daryl's anger was gone, dissapated by a day of hunting and thought. But he still felt awkward around her.

He glanced over and found she was looking at him. He nodded as a way of greeting and she returned it.

The only sounds were of the fire crackling and crickets chirping in the distance. Andrea was wondering whether or not she should ask Daryl the question she had asked Carol, Dale and Rick. Who is Amy? She glanced up at Daryl again. He was staring at the fire, no real emotion on his face. She wanted to say something, get him to talk to her, anything at all. But she wasn't sure what to say. She was saved when he spoke first. "You, uh... You make it through the day okay?"

"Yeah... I haven't really remembered anything, but I..." She sighed. "I made it."

He nodded, not sure what to say next. He wasn't used to the awkwardness in the air between them and wished for the way they were able to be around each other before. Before, they could say just about anything and understand what was meant. Now, he felt this guilt hanging over him, blaming him for her losses. Everytime he thought of it, he grew angry with himself. He should've taken the shot earlier, saved Andrea from the disorientation of losing every thought she's had. He pulled himself from his thoughts and asked her what he had originally intended. "You wanna go huntin' with me tomorrow? You were pretty good at trackin' before."

She looked up at him, face lit with the orange glow of the fire though her eyes were filled with sadness. "Sure... Maybe it'll bring something back, hm?" She gave him a very small, very unsure smile.  
>He stood, crossbow slung over his shoulder, and headed towards the house. As he walked past her, he placed his hand on her shoulder and spoke again. "You should get some sleep. I'll come find ya before I head out." He headed off to the house, leaving her with her questions in the dark.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>This was supposed to be up a while ago, but my mother is an ass. I'll have the next chapter up soon, hopefully.<strong>

**I just got a hamster. She's a chubby little thing. Albino. Red eyes. White fur. She matches up pretty well to me, all pale and such... I named her Amy.**

**I'm going to begin to quote songs too, when I can't find a normal one that fits the chapter.**


	3. The Hunt

**I'm not sure how good this chapter is. I struggled to write this one, compared to the first and second. But, I hope you like it.  
><strong>

**Does this darkness have a name?  
><strong>

_"Recalling days of sadness, memories haunt me. Recalling days of happiness, I haunt my memories."_ ~Robert Brault

"Far as I know, you were a lawyer. Ya didn't talk 'bout it much," Daryl shrugged. Andrea bit her lip and nodded, ducking under a branch to follow him.

"So... I'm a lawyer from Florida?"

"Yup."

She was quiet, contemplating this new information. She was learning more about herself, but it only put together a picture without a background. It didn't give her much about herself. She could guess at somethings; the long years of college, and the allnighters from studying.

Daryl kneeled down, glancing at the path they were following. He pointed at the subtle hints that a small deer had passed through. She paid attention to what he was doing, discovering she understood everything. She was surprised at this, surprised she actually had something from the past. She suddenly recalled a day much hotter, Daryl telling her to note broken foliage, any trees the creature might've brushed against. And a comfortable feeling close to happiness.

"Daryl..." Andrea spoke slowly, getting his attention.

"What is it?"

"Daryl, I remember this. I remember you telling me all of this before. _I remember this_."

He looked up at her, eyebrows raised. After a moment, the corners of his mouth tweaked up in a sort of pleased smirk. "Well, goddamn. I guess I'm a better teacher than I thought."

She smiled at him, for once getting a glimpse of hope. She felt as though someone had placed a live ember in the darkness of her mind and blown on it so it flared up, giving a bit of illumination to her.

"Here," he spoke, handing her the crossbow. "Let's see if you got any a' the markswoman left in ya. I tought you how to use this thing and you were pretty damn good." He took out his buck knife and jogged about fifteen feet ahead, proceeding to cut a small notch about three inches across and four inches tall. He returned to her and pointed to it. "Try hittin' that."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. She felt her body naturally fall into position, her shoulders pulling back, her back straight. She focused on a single point in the center of the mark he had made. She aimed, and shot. The bolt hit square in the center of her target, sticking into the tree. "I... I did it."

The pleased smirk reappeared on his face. "Good job."

A genuine smiled appeared on her face. "Thank you, Daryl!"

He shook his head. "Nah. Don't thank me. Ya did it on your own." He felt uncomfortable being thanked when he felt responsible for her situation.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, just as the sun began to dip back down into the sky after reaching it's highest point, they stopped to take a break. They sat on a few fallen logs and ate some of what they brought. It was squirrel jerky as well as some water, and they split a granola bar that Andrea had found at the bottom of the bag she had brought. They had managed to snag three squirrels as well as two rabbits. The deer trail they had been following had gone cold about an hour earlier, causing them to change to search for smaller animals.<p>

Daryl tore into a peice of dried meat as he looked at Andrea. She wasn't paying attention to him, and instead, was poking around in the dirt. She had a thoughtful look on her face, not really paying attention to what she was doing. He could practically see a question growing in her mind. "What's up, Andrea? You're lookin' like you got somethin' to ask."

She looked up at him, not fully focused as of yet. "Well... I do have one. Nobody else would answer it for me. I asked Carol, Dale and T-Dog... They all said I was better off remembering on my own. But I want to know."

"What issit?" he asked, stuffing the last of his jerky into his pocket.

She bit her lip and quickly asked, "Who's Amy?"

He tilted his head to the side, wondering why the others had been jackasses and hadn't told her. "Yer sister," he stated simply. "She was a lot younger than you and a lot more naive. She was all you really cared 'bout when you two first joined up with this group." Andrea frowned, but nodded, hoping he'd go on. "She looked kinda like you, but her eyes were bluer. She was the luckiest girl in the worlder ta' have you as an older sister. Hell, my older brother woulda stabbed me before huggin' me. You were a good older sis ta' her though."

"Were?" Andrea asked, voice shallow and strained.

"Yeah... She's, well, she's gone."

"How?"

"You should probably learn that on yer own. Sorry fer sounding like the others, but I'd feel like a son of a bitch if I told you." She nodded, understanding. "But, when ya do remember, I'll be there for ya. No one should go through that alone."

"Thanks, Daryl," she whispered, dropping her eyes to the ground again.

There was silence for a few moments, until he cleared his throat. "We, uh, should be headin' back."

She agreed and stood, following him back the way they had come.

* * *

><p>"Oh, great! Rabbits!" Lori said happily as the two emerged from the woods. "We can make those into stew. It'll be a nice change from squirrels. C'mon, Carl. Help me start up dinner." Carl begrudgingly got to his feet and shuffled towards his mother.<p>

"Yes, mom."

Daryl sat with the freshly killed forest animals and began to skin and gut them. He watched as Andrea left to follow Lori inside and help prepare a dinner for them all. He was a bit annoyed that some of the people around him had refrained from telling Andrea about Amy. He felt she at least needed to know who Amy was, even though he hadn't had the guts to tell her about Amy's demise.

He laughed at himself. He hadn't had the guts for something. Four months ago, his brother would have kicked his ass for that. Nothing had ever been sugar-coated in his life, yet here he was doing the very same for a woman who shouldn't be important to him. One of the first things he had promised himself when the apocolypse had commenced was he wouldn't get weighed down by anyone. Not even his own brother. He'd stay on his own and take care of himself. But here he was, in a group, getting attached to a woman he would never have met, had the world not ended. The strange thing was, he wasn't ashamed of himself. He found it easier to be around this new family he had become a part of than he had been with his father or brother.

The fact he called the random assortment of people around him a family was even more fucked up. He was getting soft. He was reminded of what he had said to Andrea after telling her about Amy. ' But, when ya do remember, I'll be there for ya.' He'd never promised anyone anything, exspecially not anything gushy like that.  
>But he'd still be there. When she remembered her sister, he'd be there if she wanted him to be.<p>

* * *

><p>Dinner was stew with some of the bread that had been made. Lori had gathered everyone together in the dining room to have what she called a real dinner, where everyone sat down and someone had a story to tell. Everybody was happy to conform to her idea. It made them feel that there was at least a little normalcy in their now abnormal life.<p>

They all crowded in around the table, each with a bowl half full. It was quiet at first, until Rick started a conversation by complimenting the meal. It gradually gained into a round of story telling, similar to when the single adults would sit around the campfire and swap tales. Though the stories told there were of a higher maturity.

Andrea sat at the corner of the table, quietly eating and listening to the people around her. She didn't exactly laugh. When she found something funny, a sort of half smile would pass over her face for a moment before returning to an emotionless, if not, a bit sad expression. Yes, remembering something earlier that day had improved her spirits, but it was far from a return to normal.

Her eyes kept flicking over to Daryl, noting how he wasn't paying attention to the current conversation. He sat a bit away from the table, bowl of food in his lap. He was focused on his food, most likely planning on heading to bed once he was finished. That way, he'd be able to get up as early as possible and head out into the woods.

Andrea returned her focus onto the people that were talking.

"I swear to you, this guy was covered from head to toe in flower petals, and drunk as all hell," T-Dog said, laughing.

Andrea tuned out again, noting how her bowl was empty, and one or two of the seats at the table were now empty, their owners heading outside or to bed. She decided to follow suite, cleaning her bowl and setting it on a rack to dry. She then headed to her room. As she did so, she saw Daryl heading into his room, the one to the right of her own.

He saw her and stopped just before his door. "G'night, Andrea."

"Good night, Daryl..."

She watched as he went into his room, closing the door. She entered her own room, grabbed the bag off her dresser and brought it over to the window. She had yet to examine her belongings. She wanted to see if she had anything that might remind her of something.

She dug through the bag, only able to see what the moon lit. She pushed past a book that looked badly written(Really? The Mystery of the Mysterious Man?), an empty plastic bag, and flashlight. At the very bottom of the bag was a wallet. It was a leather wallet and seemed to be better fit for a man than a woman. It was well worn, but stayed together just fine. She opened it and found various cards that, in this world, held no real importance. Some credit cards, and a library card. And a picture. A picture of a girl with light blonde hair, pale skin, and freckles across her face.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, it's quite obvious who's picture is in Andrea's old wallet. I have a bigger chapter planned next, complete with angst filled moments and fluff between Daryl and Andrea.<strong>

**I can't wait for next week. Walking Dead is back! I'm half afraid to watch. I'm too deeply enveloped by the fan world in which Andrea and Daryl find comfort in each other. It irritates me, the way the show has been going. I'm waiting for Shane's slow and painful death. I guess I could forgive him. Trouble is, I know it's petty, but I hate to let him live. That's why he won't have any real mention in this story.  
><strong>


	4. Learn

**So... Walking Dead is back. And, if I may say, Lori is a dumb bitch. 1.) Rick had been gone, what, an hour? 2.) How the fucking hell is Daryl selfish? He's a freaking SAINT. Literally. He... He was in the Boondock Saints.**

**But anyway, I won't be including anything from the third season(this counts as the third season, right?). If I do include anything, it'll only be little snippets. You know, bits that might cling more firmly in one's mind than fade out. Actually, following that, I might have an idea.**

* * *

><p><strong>Does this darkness have a name?<br>**

_"The leaves of memory seemed to make a mournful rustling in the dark."_ ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Andrea's heart screeched to a halt when she saw the picture sitting in her wallet. It then picked up pace, pounding with enough force to push an elephant over. She knew who it was in the picture. She knew how old the person in the picture was. She knew that person's birthday, her favorite color, her favorite food, even her favorite book.  
>Andrea knew how that person died. She had felt the recoil in the gun as the bullet passed through that person's skull, ending that person's non-life.<p>

Amy.

Tears threatened to spill over as Andrea slipped the picture of her beloved sister out of the wallet's hold. Her throat choked up, making it hard for her to breath. She sat there for what must've been an hour, holding Amy's picture tenderly. Grief ripped through her, shredding every last bit of composure she had. She stood and scrambled for the door. She made it into the hall, turning right and making her way down, picture clenched in one hand, the other on the wall. She stumbled as she arrived at her destination, stopping short. She knocked gently at the door, hoping he was awake. He opened his door, blinking sleepily.

"Andrea... Wha...?"

Tears began to escape as she looked at him, getting past the dark and to his eyes. "I remembered Amy."

His eyes widened a bit as he took in her statement. He clumsily stepped forward and placed his arms around her, pulling her inside. The door closed behind them as she sobbed into his chest. They fell back onto the bed. He held her against himself, unsure if this was how he should comfort her. He was bad at any kind of display of affection other than fucking. But 'fucking' wasn't really a term that could be described by the word affectionate.

He derailed that train of thought and turned his attention fully onto her, whispering words of comfort to her. She clung tighter to him, not wanting to be left alone with the sudden overwhelming loss. He was warm and didn't cring away at her touch. She wanted nothing more at that moment to be lost in him and escape the darkness that intruded on her mind. Remembering Amy's death and non-death had only extinguished what little hope she had gained from the memory about tracking.

When Daryl woke, he found himself curled around Andrea, holding her close. At sometime in the night, they had shifted. Her back was now pressed against his stomach and chest. He had one arm folded over her stomach, the other being used by her as a pillow. She was still very much asleep, so he tried to shift as little as possible. The light streaming in from the window told him it was only just dawn, possibly five to five thirty in the morning. He usually woke up around then and immediatly left to hunt. He found that he supplied most of the meat that was consumed by the small group and that was a very demanding job. They were more savage than walkers when it came to being fed.  
>The woman in his arms moved in her sleep, turning her head so more of her face was against his arm. He found he didn't mind how they were, even though he was sure he would've objected to it a month ago, when his brother's influence was much more controlling and he gave a crap. Of course, he was still affected when he heard his brothers voice. Even now, it threatened to come back if he let his guard down. No doubt the voice would tell him that Andrea was using him and he was a wimp, a pussy, and any other name for someone who showed any emotion. Dixons weren't supposed to care about others. Even a family of Dixons went by the motto "Every man for himself." Women weren't loved, they were playthings meant for pleasure and stress relief. At least, that's how Merle and Daryl's father had acted.<p>

Daryl never really liked that way of thinking. To him, women decided on their own what they were. Too many were easy or slutty, forced to believe they would only be loved if they let others take advantage of them. He had tried not to date girls like that. He saw his type as the kind of girl that wasn't afraid to speak out against a man, wasn't afraid to hit back when she was hit. He had only ever had two or three good relationships that had lasted for a month or more.

Andrea stirred again, in the rift between being awake and asleep. Her eyes slowly blinked open, clouded at first with confusion until she remembered where she was.

"You good?" Daryl asked softly.

She shifted onto her back and Daryl did the same, keeping one arm under her head as a pillow. His opposite arm went behind his own head as he stared up at the ceiling awaiting her reply.

"I... I don't know." He could hear the frown in her voice as well as the last evidence of her tears, besides the barely visible stains on his shirt. "I mean... It feels kind of like someone ripped most of my heart out, and the part that's left isn't sure why it's sad. Doesn't know what's missing..." She paused. "I can remember, now, Amy's death. Well, I guess it's more like my heart knows why it should be sad, but my brain doesn't. I don't... I don't remember anything other than her death. I don't remember spending time with her, or playing a board game, or... Or anything. I only know this horrible grief." She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. Her head pounded, reminding her of how she had sobbed. "I'm not only sad, I'm... Confused." He nodded, understanding what her meant.

It felt so normal, to be laying besides each other, talking about what was troubling. It was as if they did this every morning.

They lay in silence for almost a half an hour, only listening to each other's breathing. The light outside was growing brighter as the sun rose up over the hill.  
>When one of them finally spoke again, it was Daryl. "Ya sure that your okay? Before, you wanted t' off yourself."<p>

She took a moment to reply, contemplating what he said. She wasn't surprised she had made attempts on her own life, not after that horrendous, tearing insanity that was loss had over come her the night before. "I... I don't think I want to kill myself. I don't think I'd have the nerve, really..."

"I think ya'd have the nerve. That's kinda what scares me. 'Cause I know you could do it." She was unable to reply. How could she, after that?

By mid afternoon, there was nothing for Andrea to do. She had helped cook, clean, and every other thing a generic house wife would do. And she was sick of it. She had no idea how she had done this before. She did know that the only real reason she put up with it now was because it distracted her. Every other thought was 'Amy is gone. Amy is gone.' It was an endless mantra her mind had fallen into. What made it worse was she didn't remember Amy. Only her death.

Andrea had been silent most of the day. As most, she'd give small, one worded answers to a question, but that was it. She had said all she'd needed to say that morning, to Daryl. He had listened, and never once said "It's okay." Because it wasn't. It wasn't okay. She had no memory of her life, no recollection of her family and the only person she did remember was Amy, and Amy was dead. Amy was dead.

Oh God, it was not okay.

Andrea sighed, leaning back against a portion of fence. She had found a remotely quiet spot, hidden in the grasses. It was safe from discovery by the others, and gave her a good vantage point to the entire back field. It had golden grasses that blew gently with postcard perfection. It made her sleepy just looking at it.

She didn't have her gun with her, but supposed she should. It made her nervous to carry it. She wanted to think that she wasn't sure if, like the crossbow, she could remember the correct use. But the truth was it was the gun that gave Amy her second death. She barely wanted to look at the thing, let alone hold and use it. Andrea shuddered as she imagined the feel of the gun in her hand.

She stood, wanting to find something, almost anything, to do. She hoped Daryl might let her hunt with her again and soon. Hunting would get mind off Amy, if she was lucky. What she hoped for was another memory to return, as it had before when she had been with Daryl in the woods; something that might light up the space in her mind that, at the moment, only darkness occupied.

It was a perfect moment for Daryl to exit the woods then, not far from where Andrea stood. He held two turkeys by the neck and three more squirrels strung around his shoulder. He nodded to her as he passed by.

"Daryl?"

He stopped, and turned to look back at her. "Yeah?"

"Do you think I could go hunting with you tomorrow?"

He shrugged. "I don't see why not."

She murmured her thanks and followed him back towards the house.

* * *

><p><em>A small boy reached for the handle of the door to his parent's room. His father had left earlier, leaving him with his mother. He pulled open the door and it loomed over him, but he didn't notice. He wanted his mom.<em>

_"Mama?" the boy asked, looking at the figure that lay on the bed. He approached her. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at him. She had pretty blue eyes and he had them too. "Mama?" He put his tiny hand on her arm that stuck off the side of the bed. She was cold. "Mama... Wake up." She didn't move. The boy frowned, small tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. "Mama! Wake up!" He shook her arm, trying to get her to sit up, smile at him, and hold him. But she still didn't move. He began to cry. Her eyes stared blankly at him._

_And then he remembered his dog. It had gotten hit by a car, and his brother had dragged it back in and made him bury it himself. It had the same blank look in it's eyes as his mother did now._  
><em>The boy started to bawl, realizing that, like his dog, she was gone.<em>

_"Mama...!"_

_Suddenly a hand grabbed at him, and he turned to see a rotting creature that had once been a man. It tried to pull him in but he broke free, no longer in his parent's bedroom. He made for the woods, running as fast as he could. He pushed past bushes and trees until he came to a part of the forest the bore no undergrowth. He climbed a tree as fast as he could, escaping the dead creature that wished to feed on him._

_It gave up quickly, turning it's attention to a young girl. She was running towards it unknowingly, head turned to watch behind her. Her short blonde hair had bits of foliage caught in it and there were rips in her shirt with a rainbow on the front. She finally looked foreward just as she crashed into the dead creature. It clawed at her, grabbing her, biting her neck. She shrieked, pushing away, running again._

Daryl woke with a start, suddenly sitting up. His heart was pounding. He fell back onto the bed, rolling over and shoving his face in his pillow.

It was the third time he had had that nightmare that week. It never failed to scare him even though he knew each moment of it. It reoccured often, at least every two weeks, if not, more frequently. He dreaded falling asleep some nights, hating to remember what his mother's suicide had looked like. What made it worse was the bird's eye view of the walker biting Sophia. His mother's death and Sophia's demise. Two things he couldn't control. Two things that had scarred him.

He tried to force himself to fall back asleep since the nightmares rarely came more than once a night, but he found it useless. It was possibly an hour or more until sunrise and he couldn't fucking sleep.  
>He sat up again, and climbed out of bed. He rarely took watch duty, but it was as good a thing as any to pass time with. He headed outside and found Rick on watch duty.<p>

"I'll take over for ya, if you want," the hunter offered.

Rick shrugged. "I just started. If you wanna help, though, you could go check the generators for me. I'd appreciate it." He tilted his head towards the outside basement door.

Daryl nodded. "Got it." He turned away and went towards the basement. They had four functioning generators that they had been able to find on the travel there. All four ran well and on a low amount of gas too. With all of them hooked up to the house, they were able to have running water, as well as a functioning stove and fridge.

The only issue Daryl found when he got to the bottom of the stairs, was, only two of the generators were running. Two had no fuel left.

So much for his and Andrea's hunting trip.


	5. Rumo

**Oh God, I have decided against using any of the new episodes. Well, sort of. In my mind, minutes after Sophia died a second time, Shane left in his stupid little car. And Andrea comforted Daryl. So, basically, it's AU. I refuse to use any Shane in this story. He's an ass. There are various games and book series in which I will ostricize a character. Shane in Walking Dead. Sheva in Resident Evil. Pigsy in Enslaved. So on and so forth.**

**Does this darkness have a name?**

_"I finally faced the fact that it isn't a crime not having friends. Being alone means you have fewer problems."_ -Whitney Houston

Daryl tossed the last gas can into the back of his truck. The other three jostled as the last found it's resting place. He made sure that none would fly out while driving before heading towards the house. The sun was only just begining to rise, poking up on the horizen.

He walked inside, seeing the beginnings of the day's activities. Carol was in the kitchen starting to cook breakfast. Glenn had woken and sat in the living room with his guitar on his lap, only just setting his fingers on the strings.

Daryl collapsed on the couch, sighing bitterly. He would rather head out to hunt than go scavenging. Scavenging meant going to some ruined store or house or abandoned set of cars. All of those meant walkers. The fucking things annoyed him to no end. The raspy sound they made as they tried to breath sent shivers down his spine. Not to mention the horrible smell.

"Daryl? Think I could ask you something?" Daryl looked over at the source of voice. It was Glenn.

"Don't see why not."

Glenn fidgeted nervously. "I was wondering if you could ask Andrea something for me. Maggie's been kinda sad lately, and she told me she feels responsible for what happened to Andrea. Could you ask Andrea to tell Maggie it's fine? That she doesn't need to worry?"

Daryl shrugged. "Why ya askin' me? Why not just ask Andrea yourself?"

"Well..." The Korean paused. "You're always around her. And you always know where she is. It's like you've got some kind of Andrea radar... Plus, Andrea has always kind of scared me. Exspecially when she's angry."

Daryl snorted. "Ain't like she's a walker."

"I know, but... Could you ask her?"

Daryl rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." He stood and left the room, intending to find a quiet spot outside. Maggie thought it was her fault. That pissed him off to no end. Not at Maggie, but at himself. He hated thinking about Andrea's predicament. She had gone through the grief of Amy's death twice because of him. Had lost her past.

Should've taken the shot, _should've taken the shot_, **SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE SHOT**.

Daryl's regret screamed at him as he marched into the field. Anger rose and he sat roughly down, back against the wood fence. He rubbed a hand over his face and fought against the voice that threatened to ring in his ears. It was easily deafened, but Daryl knew that it meant shit. His brother's voice would come back later to torment him, insult him, blame him. He didn't need his brother to blame him. He already blamed himself.

He sighed, slamming his fist into the ground. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Usually, he got over things. Well, some things. But the only thing he could do when he couldn't get over something was shoulder the blame and move on. That us, if he could stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about this though. This hatred of himself for another's misfortunate. The only person he didn't want to rip the vocal cords out of from the entire camp. Andrea hadn't judged as quickly as the others when he first joined the camp. She had taken time to assess how he acted, what he was like. Probably because she was a lawyer. And he had given her looks of his own, of course, 'assessing' her shape. But then Merle had approached her and condemned both of them to her hate list with a few rude, sexual comments. He had worked his way off that almost instantly after Merle's absence. Perhaps, he'd never been on it and was only avoided due to his brother. He wouldn't doubt it.

But now, he deserved to be on her hate list. Yet... He seemed to be far from it. She talked to him and from time to time, gave him a small, unsure smile as he recounted some short memory he had, either of her or something completely different.

Fucking hell, he hated himself.

He needed time to think, away from everybody else. He stood, and turned towards the house. He could see Andrea from where he was. She was sitting on the steps, talking to T-Dog. She looked up at him as he approached.

"Our huntin' trip'll haveta wait. I'll bring you out tomorrow. I gotta go get fuel for the generators." Daryl avoided her eyes, a hard look on his face.

She nodded. "Okay. Do you want me to help?"

"Nah, I got it."

"Okay..." She watched as he turned away and headed for his truck. He looked back once, right before getting into the driver's seat.

T-Dog's voice captured her attention again. "Hey, Andrea, you wanna help me collect some fire wood? I mean, we got plenty of fuel, but we need tinder and kindling."

"Sure," she consented.

* * *

><p>Daryl was forced to drive far from the camp to a stretch of highway that had a mile long section of broken down vehicles. He parked the truck and climbed out. With the sun high in the sky, he grabbed the gas cans from the back. He'd fill them and then salvage what he could from the cars.<p>

Birds chirped in the trees along the sides of the highway. It comforted him, hearing that sound. It meant there weren't any predators about and the animals nearby weren't alarmed. A cool breeze blew, reminding the man of the coming autumn. Alabama wasn't known for its harsh winters, but preparations would be needed. But, knowing most of the group he was with, they would wait until the last minute to get anything ready.

He sighed and got to work. It took almost ten cars to fill the four gas cans, and another two cars after that to fill up his truck. Once full, they were returned to their places in the truck. He walked down between the deserted cars. The lives of other people passed by him. He could picture each person, each family that had owned each car. He could feel them staring at him as he passed through, taking what he found useful. The woman who had used that ibeprofen for chronic headaches. The man who had bought that jacket for his eldest son. The girl who had needed that prescription after she got surgery. They watched as he moved down the lines of cars. All of it wore at him, bit by bit.

He glanced at the sky again, noticing how low the sun had gotten. "Probably should be headin' back..." he mumbled to no one but himself. He turned around, going back through the metal skeletons of the past. He had a new leather jacket in hand, as well as a bag filled with various necessities. As long as he got back to fill the generators, he'd be fine.

It was as he was stepping past the last few broken down cars to his truck when he saw it. It was only a book. Thick, with a blue cover. Various creatures were on the front; some type of dog with horns and lizard like beings as well. It proudly displayed it's title in large white letters. _**RUMO & HIS MIRACULOUS ADVENTURES**_. Daryl wasn't sure why it made him think of Andrea, but it did. Then again, what didn't lately?  
>But he remembered the last book he read. It had been after he'd gotten accidentally shot by Andrea. He placed two fingers to the scar on his temple. She had given him that book as a sort of way of saying sorry. It wasn't the best book, but it was better than reading something by Stephanie Myer. No, it hadn't been good, but he still had it, tucked away in his satchel, somewhere near the bottom as if the farther away it was from himself, the less affected he could feel by others.<p>

Daryl reached through the broken window of the vehicle and grabbed the book. He thumbed through it. Hell, it even had pictures. He read a random page. After a moment, he shoved it into the bag with the other things he had gathered and continued on to his truck.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry it's <strong>**been a while. I had to get surgery on my foot and couldn't get over to my sister's to use her computer. I'll update when I can, though.**


	6. Don't

**Who else is obscenely happy Shane's dead? I am.**

**Does this darkness have a name?**

_"Friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief." -Marcus Tullius Cicero_

Carol knocked gently on the door to Andrea's room. When she got no answer, she pushed it open gently. She saw a figure curled up on the bed. She approached, sitting on the edge of the bed. She pushed the hair back out of Andrea's face, combing her fingers through the blonde's hair. There was a time she would only do such a thing to Sophia as she slept, but now, with her only daughter dead, she was a mother to anyone who seemed to need one. And if anyone needed one, it was Andrea. "Andrea, do you want to get up for dinner?" the older woman asked.

Andrea's eyes fluttered open for a second, long enough for her to whisper "No", before curling in on herself further.

"Well, I'll save you some, so you can have it later." Carol leaned down and pressed a kiss to the woman's temple before leaving the room. She sighed after closing the door. She had already had trouble with Daryl when he had tried to pull away from everyone. And now Andrea, with so little of herself left, seemed to avoid socializing when she could. She was quiet when she was around during the day, and Carol was hardpressed to remember the last time the blonde laughed. Carol took a plate out of the cupboard and took some of the dinner that had been made. Potatoes had been fried up and mixed with some cooked squirrel. She walked out of the house, taking a seat at the small table on the porch. She noticed a familiar truck pulling back into it's spot beneath the oak tree. Daryl climbed out and grabbed two of the gas cans from the back, one in each hand. She watched as he brought each down into the basement. Once he finished, he grabbed his satchel from the cab, slung it over his shoulder, and headed into the house.

He paused as he passed by Carol. "Uh... You know where Andrea's at?"

Carol nodded, setting her fork down for a moment. "She was asleep when I checked on her about fifteen minutes ago. But you can check and see if she's awake now. Maybe you can convince her to come down for dinner, if she is."

"Thanks," he mumbled. He went inside, climbing the stairs as he pulled the book he had found out of his bag. He rapped gently on her door with his knuckles.

"Who is it?" a sleepy voice asked.

"It's me. Daryl."

"You can come in," she informed. He turned the doorknob, opening it to see her just sitting up in her bed. She looked tired. Her hair was down and messy. "What is it, Daryl?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"I found this." He showed her the book. "I thought you might like it. It ain't- Well, you..." He trailed off. He was fucking nervous for no reason. "Look, you probably don't remember it, but you brought me a book when, well, fuck, when you did doesn't matter. But I wanted to pay ya back for it, so here."

She took the book from him and smiled. "Thanks, Daryl."

He muttered that it was no problem. "Carol wanted t' know if you wanted some dinner," the hunter added.

She shook her head no. "I'm not hungry," she stated.

"Mmkay."

He left the room, closing the door behind him. She looked at the book in her hands. "Rumo and his miraculous adventures..." she read aloud. Opening the book, she found a page that was completely blacked out, with white lettering. She read. "Imagine a chest of drawers. Yes, a big chest with lots of drawers containing all the marvels and mysteries of Zamonia arranged in alphebetical order. A chest of drawers floating in absolute darkness."

* * *

><p>It was four days later when Daryl remembered his promise to bring Andrea hunting again. They headed out into the woods, him leading. After a mile, he glanced back at her to see her stumble and catch herself on a tree. "You okay?" he asked, pausing for barely a moment.<p>

"I'm fine," she replied, increasing her speed to keep pace with him again. He examined her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed frailer than usual. He shook his head, hoping he was imagining it. She knew that she needed to take care of herself. He could trust her with that.

After a few minutes, she started to fall behind him again, so they took a quick break. She sat down, taking a swig of water from her bottle. "Hey, Daryl, is it always like that at camp?" her voice came, blue-green eyes looking up at him where he leaned against a tree.

"Like what?" he replied gruffly.

"You know... Over dramatic. Like every little thing needs to be discussed and every little thing is amplified into some gigantic proportion that is worse than what originally happened." She shook her head dissaprovingly. "Was it always like this? Or did it just start?"

Daryl snorted. "Shit like that has been happenin' since day one. It's usually Lori that starts it. Makes somethin' outta nothin'. Or fucks her husbands best friend. Shit like that."

"Fucks his best... Damn. I knew there was a reason I didn't like her."

He laughed a short laugh. "Don't think you ever liked her. I know I didn't. She ain't exactly a good person. Acts like she's a fuckin' saint or some shit."

Andrea chuckled. "We should keep moving."

He nodded. She pushed herself up, cringing as her arm caught on a branch. He noticed. "Your arm okay?" he asked, slinging his crossbow onto his back. He had forgotten she had been hurt there.

"It's fine..." she mumbled. He approached anyway, gently tugging her sleeve up so he could see the bandage on her arm. She gritted her teeth, but let him continue on.

"You tore it open again..." He removed the bloodied fabric and reached into his back pocket for a rag. It was the one he had cleaned the day before, so he pressed it to her wound, tying it around her arm. "That'll last 'til we get back. You should keep a' eye on it."

She nodded. "Okay... Thanks."

He shrugged.

* * *

><p>They stopped again, hours later, in a small clearing where some trees had fallen, leaving a space in the sky for the sun to come through and logs on the ground to sit on. Daryl had been watching her, and had come to a conclusion. Something was definately wrong. Besides her arm, something else was going on with her. She lost her balance often and she seemed to have a hard time keeping up. But he didn't say anything about it. Until they stopped, that is. She had taken out her water bottle, which had been refilled in a stream they passed. He had taken out some squirrel jerky(something they never had in short supply) and begun to eat. He expected her to do the same thing, but she refrained. She sipped water, but nothing more. Come to think of it, he hadn't noticed her eat anything for the past few days. So he asked, "Ain'tcha hungry? I don't remember seein' you eat before we left."<p>

She shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry."

He felt pushy, but continued on. This woman would be the death of him, the way she affected him. "When'd you last eat?"

She looked away from him, biting her lip. "A few days..."

"How many?" He frowned, feeling an anger-like emotion clogged with worry and something else. "Three? Four?"

She cringed, hearing it as anger. "More?"

She nodded. "Daryl, I-"

"The goddamned worlds ended and your starvin' yourself?" he spoke harshly. "Why the hell haven't you eaten?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I haven't... I haven't been hungry. I, I don't know why."

He sighed angrily. "You can't fuckin' starve yourself! What the hell were you thinkin'? Even if you ain't hungry, ya gotta keep fed! You're smart 'nough to know that!"

She remained silent, staring at the ground. "I can take care of myself, Daryl."

He let out a frustrated growl. Acting on impulse, he grabbed her arms and pulled her in, pressing his lips to hers.


	7. Superfluous

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. You all really boost myself esteem. Everytime I get a review, I get in a really good mood. So, really, I'm extremely happy with each review. I apologize for never replying, but I usually check them on my phone and that makes it difficult.**

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><p><strong>Does this darkness have a name?<strong>

"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." Ingrid Bergman

Daryl hung his string of squirrels on a branch, taking a seat at the picnic table in front of the house. Taking out his knife, he got to work, seperating meat from skin and fat. It was a quick process since he had been skinning creatures since he was young. There hadn't been much else to eat when he had lived with his father and brother. Glenn approached as he was working, sitting on the opposite side of the table. "Need help?" the korean asked nervously.

Daryl shrugged. "I know you didn't come over here just 'cause you wanted to help."

Glenn nodded. "You're... Right."

"Then out with it."

"Did you.. did you ask Andrea yet?"

" 'Bout Maggie?"

"Yeah."

"Listen," Daryl said, locking eyes with the younger man across the table. "It wasn't Maggie's fault Andrea got taken 'r hurt. Tell her she's fine. She oughta just talk to Andrea 'bout it."

"But-"

"Just tell the woman she's gotta do it. 'Cause I won't."

Glenn sighed. "Fine... I hope I don't get killed for this."

Daryl rolled his eyes as Glenn stood and walked away. He'd have told him to man up, but he was having his own issues with facing woman lately. After a long, silent walk back to camp, she had gone inside and stayed there. He refrained from going in after her. He'd embarressed himself. Let emotions take control of him to the point where they dominated his actions. He let his thoughts run wild as he continued skinning the squirrels.

Andrea, on the other hand, was inside. She had gone in as soon as they got back and occupied one of the two bathrooms. She wanted a shower. Wash herself and think things through. She stripped down and, looking in the mirror, noticed how small she had gotten. It'd only been a few days, she tried to reason with herself; it wasn't like everyone was getting enough food before that anyway. Her ribs showed more than they should. There were slight indents where there was a space between two.

Perhaps she did need to eat.

Daryl. He'd gotten so angry at her for this. So angry when she said she could take care of herself. Imagine if he saw her ribs showing through beneath her pale skin. He'd go into a rage, she was sure. Based on what had happened earlier, it was almost definite. What Andrea really wanted to know was why he cared so much. Was there something in her past that explained it? At the moment, she had no idea. She had no idea about anything anymore though. Hell, she didn't remember her middle name, her favorite food, or even where she went to school. She took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror. It was better not to dwell on her transparent past. The more she tried to force the memories, the less likely they'd show.

Andrea stepped into the shower, turning on the water and not caring that it was cold. Either way, she would get clean. She let the liquid soak her hair and drip down her face and down her body. It felt amazing to wash away some of the day's stress. It cleared her mind and allowed her to think on the earlier happenings. Such as the kiss. She wondered if he actually had some sort of feeling for her, or if it was only his frustration showing through. Either way, their lips made contact, if only for a few seconds. A brief kiss that had stirred up questions in her that hadn't been there before, or, if they had, they hadn't been as dominent in her mind.

Andrea quickly washed and stepped out of the shower, drying herself off with a towel. She pulled her close back on and left the bathroom, only momentarily entering her own room to recieve her book. She headed to the back porch and greatfully found it empty. She sat down in a chair with a wooden frame and a floral cushion. Propping the book up on her knees, she began to read. She wasn't far in the thick book, even though she wanted to be. She was only just past the spot where Rumo beheaded the chief demonacle.

The screen door swung open, allowing Daryl through. He carried a plate of food in his hand. With the other, he roughly grabbed the side table from the opposite side of the porch and pushed it infront of her, then pulling the chair up. The ex-lawyer watched as he set the plate down infront of her. "Eat." The statement was short, simple, and very to the point.

"I'm not hungry, Daryl."

"Like hell you ain't. You're skinnier than a birch tree," he answered. "You ain't starvin' yourself while 'm around. I won't let ya."

She closed the book, keeping a hand between the pages. Blue-green met dark blue as she looked up into his eyes. "Why do you care?" She bit her lip. "I mean, you must. You kissed me in the woods today."

He shrugged, wishing he could avoid that subject. "You... You ain't stupid. I know ya got a brain. Can't ya tell your wastin' away?" She moved a hand to her torso, feeling the ribs through her shirt. They weren't prominent, but much more than they should be for a woman that had enough food available. He looked away from her and shook his head. "I know ya' can take care of yourself, but you don't need t' be fadin' like this."

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a sigh. He was right. Defeated, she reached for the fork that lay discarded besides the plate. He sat back, staring ahead, out over the porch railing and into the woods. If he looked at her, he might do it again. Pull her in and kiss her, passionately this time. As attractive as she was, he wasn't going to do that. That would complicate things even more; past the earlier kiss and this starvation crap she was putting herself through.

Andrea placed Rumo on the table, opening it to the page she was currently on. If she was going to eat, she may as well read too. She glanced up at his face, finding his eyes closed and body posture tense. She returned her eyes to the book, immediatley riveted by the scene that the words painted in her head. It was a battle, Rumo verses the remaining blood-thirsty cyclops called demonacles. Rumo, being a dog-like creature of high intelligance, was on all fours, racing through the dark tunnels, breaking necks of the beasts he found. His mentor, a sharkgrub named Smyke, was with the other captives, waiting for his student to emerge from the dark with news of freedom.

"You, uh, like the book?" Daryl asked, still avoiding her eyes when she glanced over at him.

"Yeah. It's great." She smiled softly and whispered, "Thanks, Daryl..." She took another bite of her food, though it was only her fifth. She didn't feel hungry at all, still. But he was right. She didn't need to waste away like she was. "... For everything."

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><p><strong>Anyway, I hope you'll review. I'll do my best to update soon. I think I'll even start the next one with a memory.<strong>

**If anyone has a song or two you think might fit this story, or this couple, please tell me!**


	8. Mom

**This is short, so I apologize ahead of time. It's really just a filler. Next chapter, if things turn out the way I want them to, big things next chapter.**

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><p><strong>Does this darkness have a name?<strong>

_"It is a sweet thing, friendship, a dear balm, A happy and auspicious bird of calm..." - Shelly_

The next morning, Daryl did the exact same thing as he had for dinner the previous night. He found Andrea sitting alone on the back porch(this time, without her book) and set a plate of food in front of her. She tried the "not hungry" thing again, but he wouldn't listen. So she picked at her plate as he ate at his own. They were both silent, not sure what to say to a person had more of an effect on them than either would like to admit. Lunch that day was the same. As was dinner. The next three days went like that. Daryl would bring two plates of food out to the back porch, listen to Andrea's excuse to why she didn't want the food and he'd set a plate down infront of her anyway. No one else had seemed to notice the occurence but Carol. She watched him take two plates of food each time and carry them off, always in the same direction.

Slowly over the three days, the silence between them ebbed away. They started talking. "Remember anything yet?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said after a moment. "I remembered that my birthday is in late October. Not sure how much that helps though, with the way the world is now."

"Well, it's still good. 'S better than not knowin'."

"I agree... But when memories come back, it gets confusing. It's usually just bits and pieces. Someone's voice, a face, a smile. Not much more than that. I only really recognize Amy." She brushed her hair out of her face. "I've gotten one or two memories that aren't really memories. More of a feeling. But, like you said, it's better than nothing."

Andrea glanced up at him as she took a bite of her food. There was a small smile apparent on his lips. Daryl was handsome, she'd admit, exspecially with a smile on his face instead of a scowl.

"Got your appetite back yet?" he asked as he finished off his own plate.

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. At least, more than before."

"Good. Like I said, you don't need t' be wastin' away," he spoke, setting down his fork and looking out over the back yard.

She ate the last few bites of her food, picked up his empty plate and stood. "I'll take these back to the kitchen and wash them."

"You don't gotta do that for me," he said looking up at her from his seat.

"Thing is, I want to." Without another word, she went back inside, walking through the hallway and into the kitchen. She quickly washed them and placed them on the drying rack besides the sink. She returned to the porch, finding him sitting back with an arm behind his head, eyes closed. She settled down in her own chair besides him, feeling relaxed and comfortable for the moment.

_"Andrea, can you go get your sister?" her mother called from the living room._

_"Sure, Mom," the teen called back. She slipped into her little sister's room, picking the two year old up. Amy smiled at her older sister, showing her bright little baby teeth. The child clung to her as she brought her downstairs and set her besides her mother. She was a pretty woman. Dirty-blonde hair, hazel eyes and a slightly angular face._

_"Thanks, sweetie."_

_"No problem, Mom." She turned but paused, turning back. "Hey, Bonni is having her birthday party this weekend, on Saturday. Can I go?"_

_"What time is it at?"_

_"Noon."_

_"Where?"_

_"Her house."_

_"Will any boys be there?"_

_Andrea rolled her eyes. "Yes. But only a few. There's going to be more girls than guys."_

_"Hmph. Pity. I want grandkids," her mother joked._

_"Moooom!" Andrea complained, half laughing._

_"Yes, you can go. But you have to be home by eight. We need you to babysit Amy at nine." Amy looked over at the mention of her name and flashed another smile at her older sister._

_"Okay."_

Andrea opened her eyes, wondering why the memory had come back so suddenly. But she knew what her mom looked like now. She was thankful for that. Daryl was still resting besides her in his chair. He looked so serene, eyes closed, shade falling over most of his body. She smiled, looking away from his form and out across the lawn. Everything was quiet. She didn't hear anyone in the front yard, or Carl playing. It was only the soft breathing of the man beside her and her own. And she had to say, she liked it. It was tranquil. There was no talking, no sounds of cars, no radios. Only her and him. It was the best she had felt in a long while.


	9. Past

**This is longer than usual, to make up for the last short chapter.**

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><p><strong>Does this darkness have a name?<strong>

_"I don't know if you've ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That's why I'm trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning." ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower_

Andrea woke up to some sort of commotion downstairs in the house. She quickly dressed and went downstairs. She found almost everyone out front. On the porch, Lori stood besides Carol, fingers gripped on Carl's shoulders. She found Daryl at the base of the steps, and went to stand besides him. Rick, Dale, T-Dog, Maggie, and Glenn stood halfway out in the lawn. Someone she didn't recognize though stood about two feet away from Rick. He had short brown hair, a boyish face and brown eyes.

"What's happening?" she mumbled to Daryl.

Daryl jumped, surprised to find her suddenly besides him. "Glenn n' Maggie found someone out there. Brought him back. Rick's talkin' to him now."

"Is he going to stay?" she inquired. Daryl shrugged, returning his attention to the conversation as he shifted the crossbow on his back.

"I was with some others, but we got hit by a horde near Montgomery," the man spoke. "I've been traveling alone ever since."

"You're sure he was alone?" Rick asked Glenn, hand resting lightly on his gun.

Glenn nodded. "We found him in the office of a Rite-Aid. There was only one sleeping bag too, so... Yeah."

Rick stepped back, and started to mutter to Dale. Dale made some type of retort, but Andrea couldn't hear what they were saying. She followed Daryl over to the two as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She crossed her arms across her chest as she joined the conversation. "We gonna let 'im stay?" Daryl asked.

Rick shrugged. "I don't know. What if he wasn't alone? He could leave and bring a bigger group here. Ruin all of this."

"But Glenn said it was only him," Dale pointed out.

"Still-"

"Look, Rick," the older man interupted again. "We can have someone with him constantly. A kind of guard to make sure he doesn't do anything."

"Dale made a point," Daryl added. "Better puttin' a guard with him than sendin' him out there."

Rick sighed and nodded. "I guess. Any one of you volunteer?" Dale opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the man Glenn and Maggie had brought to camp.

"Andrea? Is that really you?" He approached and she looked over, taking a step back.

"I, I don't know you..." she said, confused. She kept one arm as though they were still crossed but the other fell to her side, grabbing Daryl's hand. He seemed surprised by the action, but he let her keep her hand where it was. The man's face fell.

"How can you not know me? It's me! Ethan Blaney! I've known you since college! We dated for three years! We even stayed friends after we broke up! You have to remember me!" He accentuated each sentance with a movement of his arms. The frown on his face was deep.

Andrea shook her head, squeezing Daryl's hand. "I'm sorry. I don't remember any of that."

"What do you mean?" The dissapointment showed on his face.

Daryl rolled his eyes and Rick stepped foreward to explain. "Andrea got hurt a week or two ago. She forgot most of her past."

Ethan sighed. "I'm sorry then."

She shrugged. "It's fine."

"Dale," Rick spoke. "Stick with him." He turned to Ethan. "Dale is to be around you at all times. It'll be like that until we trust you. Got it?" The last part was spoken with his 'cop voice'. The voice in which no one dared to disobey.

Ethan nodded. "Yeah. Got it." His brown eyes continued to look at Andrea, and then quickly around the group. "Where's Amy?" he asked.

Andrea's face darkened, becoming a sort of grimace of pain. "Gone," she spoke so he could hear her. She released Daryl's hand and turned away, vanishing into the bowels of the house.

* * *

><p>That evening, Daryl found Andrea sitting on the back porch. She wasn't in her usual spot in the wooden chair. Instead she sat on the bottom step drawing in the dirt with a stick. He sat down next to her and watched as she did so. She drew some stars and then wiped them out with her foot. Next she drew a heart and scribbled it out. She put a circle around the scribble and drew a trunk out of the bottom, making it a crude tree.<p>

"You okay?" he finally asked. She stayed silent, adding a squirrel onto the tree. She then put a stick figure with a crossbow a few inches away. And then an arrow sticking out of the squirrel. "C'mon, blondie..." She didn't look him.

Instead, she muttered, "What?" She wiped away the picture before her and started drawing again. This time, a dog, two little horns sticking out of it's head. Rumo from her book. She wiped it away too.

"You been back here since Pretty-boy got here. Wanted to make sure you were okay," he said in a low, gruff voice. She sighed.

"Why?" Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible.

"Why what?"

"Why do you care?" She asked louder, conviction in her voice. "I've asked you before. Will you tell me this time?" He looked down, watching as she drew a fish, erased it and drew it again. "Are you going to answer?" He scooted closer to her and sighed.

" 'M bad at this..." he admitted.

"Try."

He nodded. "Okay... I don't really know..."

"Not much of an answer..."

"I know, I know. Let me finish." He exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "I ain't good at this..." he murmured again. "I like ya', Andrea. Your smart and shit... Ya' might not remember it, but ya' didn't judge like the others. And ya' never whined like Lori. I can stand ya' and you can stand me." He watched as she continued to form the image of objects in the dirt. At the moment she had a detailed image of his crossbow.

She dropped the stick and turned towards him. She moved closer to him so they were touching and pressed her cheek against his shoulder, taking his hand. "I guess that's a good enough answer."

"Good, 'cause I ran outta things t' say." They sat in a nervous silence, each waiting for the other to speak. He decided he'd be the first. "So why'd ya' come out here for so long?"

She shrugged, breathing in his scent. "Hiding, I guess. I mean, someone who knows a good chunk of my past is here. You'd think I'd want to talk to him, right?" She laughed non-comedically. "But I'm scared, Daryl." He was silent, letting her talk herself out. "I'm scared of my past." The sun was starting to set, casting an orange light across the sky, dragging in the darkness that they couldn't see because it was still on the opposite side of the house. "I'm scared to find out what I'm missing. Ignorence is bliss, you know?" He nodded even though she didn't need an answer. She yawned, squeezing his hand. "I'm going to go to bed," she informed.

"But ya' haven't eaten your dinner," Daryl protested.

"I promise I'll eat breakfast in the morning, okay?" she vowed, looking at Daryl sincerely.

"I'mma hold you to that."

"Good." She quickly kissed him on the corner of his mouth before disappearing into the house. He stood and looked down at the drawing briefly before heading into the house. He could smell dinner cooking. He could smell meat cooking, as well as onions. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw Carol at the stove. She glanced back at him.

"Where's Andrea?" she asked in her soft voice.

"Sleepin'," he replied, taking a plate out of the cupboard. She accepted the answer but kept talking.

"You two aren't having your little dinner date tonight?" she said half teasingly.

He rolled his eyes. "They ain't dates."

Carol dished out a good sized serving of food onto his plate. "Well, you're welcome to join me with the others. We usually sit at the picnic tables out front, or on the front porch."

He shrugged. "Okay." He took his plate out the front door, deciding to sit on the steps. He saw Ethan chatting with Dale at the picnic table closest. He directed his eyes and his thoughts away from the man. It was best for the both of them right now. Too bad his voice carried. Daryl could hear every word that Ethan said.

"I always thought she'd be one of the stronger ones," the man said. "In a way, I'm not really surprised she made it."

Dale chuckled. "She's definately a survivor."

Ethan lowered his voice, but Daryl could still hear him. "Is, uh... Is she with him?" He tilted his head in Daryl's direction. "I mean, she was holding his hand." Dale shrugged.

"I don't know. I've learned not to get in Andrea's buisness. Daryl's been looking out for her ever since she got hurt though. He's a good man."

Daryl shoveled in the last forkful of food and stood. The last of the sunlight disappeared from the sky, letting darkness have it's reign. The days were getting short. It had to be mid-September at least. Some of the leaves on the trees were showing off a bright orange or yellow or red. He turned towards the door and went inside. He'd wash off his plate and head for bed. It was still a bit early for that, but he wanted to wake early in the morning so he could head out and hunt. They were getting a bit low on meat. It was better to be safe than sorry. He went upstairs, intending to go kick off his shoes and lay in bed until sleep claimed him. As he passed Andrea room, her voice came from within. "Daryl?" He stopped and peeked in the room.

"What is it, girl?"

"Will you lay with me tonight?" It was an innocent, albeit unexpected question.

He took a breath and shrugged. "Sure, if you want me to." She moved over and he lay down besides her. She snuggled up against him, pressing close. His breath hitched as he wrapped an arm around her. She fell asleep quickly, but he lay awake, staring at her through the dark. She seemed so peaceful. It made him hate himself for not saving her before her injury. He didn't deserve to be the one holding her as she slept.

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><p><strong>I've already contemplated killing Ethan off. And it's getting hard to keep track of the characters. My mind believes Dale is dead, but he's not in my story! I miss him.<strong>

**Please review!~**


	10. Contentment

**Oh, there's big things this chapter, relationship wise.**

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><p><strong>Does this darkness have a name?<strong>

_"I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman." - Anais Nin_

Daryl watched as Andrea was grabbed and pulled away by the man with the shaggy brown hair. He tried to move towards them but his legs were heavy. He tried to run, but they slowly got farther away from him. He called after Andrea, watching as she dissapeared into the woods, held by the man with shaggy brown hair.

Suddenly, he could run again, sprinting into the forest, trying his best to follow after her and her captor. Thorns tore at his skin, branches pulled at his hair. He kept running, shouting her name as he did. He kept getting glimpes of her frightened eyes beneath her blonde hair. The forest seemed endless, never letting him catch up with Andrea or the shaggy haired man.

He pushed past one last tree to see Andrea being held with a knife to her throat, the man smiling grotesquely. Daryl raised his crossbow, but once again, it was heavier than lead. He was slow in aiming. The man, however, had no such affect on him. He brought the blade across her throat, tearing into her perfect flesh. Daryl fired. The man now dead, an arrow protruding from his skull, Daryl rushed to Andrea's side. She tried to cover the wound on her throat, but crimson blood welled up between her fingers. He mumbled her name and she looked up at him, the light fading from her blue-green eyes.

"Daryl..." she whispered. "Daryl." Her voice was stronger. "Daryl!"

Daryl woke, heart pounding. Andrea had her hands cupped around his face, trying to wake him from his nightmare. "Daryl, you were talking in your sleep," she murmured. Their faces were close together, the only thing showing in hers, concern.

He pushed away and mumbled, "I gotta go," in a hasty voice before leaving the room as quickly as he could. She sat up, staring out after him. She was out of the bed after a moment, following the direction he had gone.

She found him sitting at one of the three picnic tables, the one in the middle of the yard. Rain was pouring down and soaked her the instant she stepped off the porch. She sat down besides him. His head was back, his back to the table's surface, his elbows propped on it. They sat listening to the rain, letting it coat them.

"Daryl... What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," he replied in a dark, almost angry voice. She gave him a look that basically told him not to tell her that bullshit. He sighed. "Nothin'..."

Andrea dropped it and rested her head on his shoulder. "Come inside."

"Why?" he said bluntly.

"It's raining and we're both soaked."

"Then go inside," he spoke.

She shook her head. "Not until you do."

"Why can't ya' just leave me alone?" he asked quietly, almost accusingly.

She shrugged. "You didn't leave me alone when I wasn't eating."

"That's different."

"No. No, it's not. I care about you and I don't want anything happening to you."

He was silent, and suddenly noticed how badly she was shivering. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in. She leaned against him, thankful for the warmth. She slowly turned her head to face him, pressing her lips to his. He reacted but then pulled away. "I can't..." he murmured. She sighed, turning her head away.

"Rejection still stings, even after the apocolypse..." She started to pull out of his arms but he stopped her.

"It ain't 'cause you aren't pretty or anythin' or that I don't want ya'..."

"Then why?" She let herself fall back into his grip.

He pressed his face into her hair, taking a deep breath. " 'Cause I'm the reason you don't remember nothin'... It's my fault."

She pushed herself up and out of his arms. She faced him, suddenly angry. He watched through the rain, confused to her spontaneous anger. "Really, Daryl? Really?" He tried to splutter out an answer, but she cut him off. "You too? Maggie already claimed it was her fault! Now you?" She crossed her arms. "Who's next? Santa? Is_ Santa_ going to come here and tell me how it's his fault I got hurt because he never got that guy a pony?" She let out a frustrated growl. "How the hell is it your fault, Daryl? Tell me that." She stood over him and waited for his reply.

He mumbled, "I didn't get there in time..."

"So?" she replied, less angry this time. "Daryl, you did your best. You saved me, and I'm alive right now. What if you had gotten there before that? What if that man had killed me because you got there earlier?" He looked away from her. He couldn't see her eyes well in the cold, dark rain, but he knew they'd be angry. He wasn't good with angry women, exspecially when it was Andrea. She sighed, dropping the last of her anger. "You came in just before he pushed me... And you kept him from hurting me further."

The rain started to lesson. "You remembered?" he spoke quietly. She nodded.

"Yeah. Three days ago." Andrea sighed. "You felt guilty... Is that the reason you wouldn't kiss me?" She placed a hand on his arm. The moon peaked through the clouds, illuminating his face. He nodded. She laughed, causing him to frown. "Do you realize how glad I was to see you when you pushed that door open? I had thought he'd kill me. But then you came in with that wonderful crossbow of yours... And I knew I'd be fine." She leaned forward, kissing him again. He replied with vigor this time, soft but at the same time with a sort of burning fire that engulfed them both.

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><p>There are three major feelings a person can have when they wake up in bed with someone else.<p>

The first is regret. It comes about when the two people didn't mean to end up that way. When two people that don't know each other get drunk for the sake of being drunk. They end up losing all inhibitions and sleeping together. When they wake up, hangovers pounding in their heads, they realize what they've done. Or, more appropriatley, who. They're instantly filled with regret and other emotions, such as fear. Fear of each other, fear of pregnancy. They realize what they've done and realize that it was a mistake. And they wish they could take those actions back.

The second is closely related to regret: guilt. Guilt over something that shouldn't have happened. The feeling comes to someone when they indulge in sex with someone they shouldn't, such as a friend's ex, or perhaps even a friend's current partner. When the sex shouldn't have happened, those involved feel horrible.

Contentment is the third. When two people are completely happy with what they've done, they wake content. They enjoy the moments they're able to have before getting up and facing the day. The two feel serene after their night together. When two people wake like this, they often indulge in each other more than once.

Contentment is what Andrea felt. She woke, her head on Daryl's smooth, muscular chest. He was still asleep, a hand loosely entwined in Andrea's hair. She smiled, cuddling in closer. From the light coming in through the window, it was early. If any clock was still ticking, it would probably be about seven.

She noticed that they were in his room. The previous night, it hadn't really mattered which of their rooms they made it into, just as long as they did before clothes started to come off. She saw his crossbow resting on the dresser next to the door. She could also see the clothing they had discarded the night prior.

Daryl's eyes opened. He hazily looked down at her. "Hey."

She smiled. "Hey." He pulled her into a kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. "I like that way of good morning..." she murmured. "As for last night, I really hope we haven't done that before. I wouldn't be happy forgetting it."

He chuckled. "Nah. We didn' do nothin' like that before."

She pulled away and sat up, feeling his eyes on her breasts. She didn't mind at all. "We should probably get up." He nodded, sitting up, watching as she dressed, and grabbing his boxers off the floor.

Both now dressed, they looked at each other. She bit her lip. "So it's us now?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's us."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading!~<strong>


	11. Jealousy

_"It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't coma back. You're left so alone that you can't explain. Damn, there's nothing like that, is there? I've been there and you have too. You're nodding your head."  
>― <em>Henry Rollins_, _The Portable Henry Rollins__

"... I shot you?" Andrea asked, stepping over a fallen tree.

Daryl nodded and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Uh... Yeah." They were out in the woods, hunting. They hadn't found a trail yet, but a subject had come up that Andrea had, of course, forgotten.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, frowning.

He shrugged, stopping and crouching down to check a possible track. "I dunno. Didn't seem all that important."

She bit her lip. "The fact that I shot you didn't seem important? It's bad enough that I didn't remember Amy, but you neglect to tell me I shot you?" She sighed and shook her head, exasperated.

"You were feelin' bad enough, I didn't wanna tell you."

Both were silent for a good few minutes. She watched as he examined the area around the track. She spoke. "So I really shot you?"

"Yup."

"... God... I'm such a bitch."

He smirked and looked up at her. "Ya' can be, sometimes. But it was an accident."

"Where'd I shoot you?" she asked. He parted the bit of hair on the side of his head and showed the scar. She frowned and reached out to touch it. "I'm sorry then."

He stood and shrugged again. "Ya' already 'pologized." He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her before returning to the trail. "Got one here. How's venison sound for dinner?"

She smiled, lowering her voice, "Great."

She watched him find the trail's direction and followed after him. They moved swiftly but silently. They seemed in sync with each other's actions. Andrea would move to point out some fur caught in the bark of a tree and Daryl would show her a hoof print. With the two working together, the deer they were following had no chance. They caught up to it quickly, quiet as they peered out at it from some bushes. "I got this," he whispered. His crossbow was raised, aiming at the deer's head, which was low since it was grazing on the under growth. It was over in a second, the only sound being that of the crossbow's line twanging. "We gotta get this back to camp," he spoke, normal tone now.

"Let's stop and eat first. I'm hungry," she suggested, watching as he removed the arrow from the deer's skull. Wasn't the most appetizing sight, but hunger was hunger.

"Sure," he agreed. "I think I hear a stream nearby. Mind refillin' our water bottles?"

"Hand it over." She held out her hand to recieve his bottle and disappeared towards the stream. He glanced back and shook his head in disbelief. He had no idea how he had been able to fall into this relationship so quickly. How he had kissed her earlier just because he wanted to, not to initiate anything. It was simply because he wanted to be near her. If his brother could see him now. He'd probably say _"Lookit little Darlette! Pretty as can be with that fancy ass lawyer on his arm. Surprised he ain't wearin' a dress!_" But, at that moment, Daryl didn't fucking care. He was happy enough with Andrea and felt better next her more than he ever did living with his father and Merle. Who cares if she shot him once? Wasn't like she killed him.

Andrea came out of the bushes with two now full water bottles in hand. She handed his to him and took a long drink of her own. "We're heading back now, right? After we eat something? We can even eat while we walk. It's not like we need silverware to eat a granola bar and squirrel jerky."

He nodded. "Yeah, we'll head back. 'M thinking this deer'll last a good week or more. Venison is better than squirrel."

She took a granola bar out of her small back pack as he slung the deer over his shoulders. "Here," she spoke, handing half of the food to him. He used one hand to hold the deer on his shoulders, placing a tight grip on it's hooves in front of him. With his free hand, he took it and bit off most of it.

"Thanks." They walked in a pleasant silence back through the woods.

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><p><em>'They must be together,'<em> Ethan thought to himself as he watched Andrea emerge from the woods with Daryl. He took note on how close they walked and the smile on her face when she replied to some thing Daryl had said that Ethan couldn't hear. He remembered a time when he was the only one that could get her to smile like that. Of course, that had been years earlier. Maybe she had changed. He was sure her type was, or at least had been, far from the hick-raised-on-whatever-was-shot-that-week. He remembered her type had been him, the nice guy who knew a lot of jokes and rarely got angry. But, here she was with a hick.

Ethan had always hated how they broke up. After nearly four years of a relationship, she had suddenly broken it off. Well, perhaps he had come on a bit strong with the... But still! He had loved her and he felt as though he still did. Seeing her with Daryl made him jealous. And jealousy was always a bad thing.

He sighed and looked away.

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><p><strong>Just a short chapter to interupt the hatius.<strong>

**More later.**


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